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A Day at Hampton Institute . . . Myrtilla J. Sherman, '79 

The Meeting of the Ways .... Edith B. Lehman, 1900 . 
The Parthenon at Midnight . . . Edith M. WJierry, 1901 . 


Jeannette A. Marks, '99 












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THE CORNER-STONE of the $>OU0f)tOn ^emOtial Cbapel, laid 
November Twenty-Second, 1897. 

This Address was delivered by Rev. Edward L. Clark, D. D. 

WHY was this new Chapel given to Wellesley College ? 
The cross upon the corner-stone is the answer: "It is a la- 
bour of love shewed toward His name." It is also a memo- 
rial of William S. Houghton, given by his son and daughter, Clement 
S. Houghton and Elizabeth G. Houghton. The father was a trustee 
who laboured many years to fulfill the purpose for which these broad 
lands and stately buildings were given. His children, in sympathy with 
his views and to perpetuate them, have given this Chapel. 
This purpose of Mr. Durant is expressed in a sermon familiar to you 
all upon "The spirit of the College." Twenty-seven years ago he wrote 
in the Bible put in the corner-stone of College Hall, "This building is 
humbly dedicated to our Heavenly Father with the hope and prayer 
that He may be always first, and by it souls may be led to Christ." 
Seven years later a Bible in the corner-stone of Music Hall bore this 
inscription: "The College of Music is dedicated to Almighty God 
with the hope that it will be used in His service." 
Mr. Houghton understood by these words that as every good and 
perfe<5t thing comes from God, we are accountable to Him for their 
use. The spirit of self-denial which was incarnate in Jesus Christ will 
teach us how to receive, increase and use these gifts. Therefore, to know 
God in Jesus Christ is the beginning of wisdom. 
The questions which divide the Christian world do not concern this 
view of a religious education. Movements of theological opinion are 
to religion what waves are to the tides, or winds to the atmosphere in 
which "we live, move and have our being." Mr. Herbert Spencer speaks 
with awe of the signs of purpose in the atoms, and even suggests a form 
of self-sacrifice in their struggle for development. The same writer has 
given us this definition, "Life is the continual adjustment of the inner 
relations to the outer relations." The thought of the Creator and the 
labour of the mind created in his image, move together toward the per- 
fect life. This is what Mr. Houghton meant by a religious education. 
It is being "led out" by the hand of God. 
Mr. John Fiske in a noble essay upon "the everlasting reality of reli- 

gion," illustrates Mr. Spencer's idea of life by the career of the most 
brilliant writer of France, who in his hatred of shams especially in 
religion, not less than in his intellectual gifts acknowleged his indebt- 
edness to Deity. He wished to rear a monument to this divine lead, 
and on his estate at Ferney, where his best work was done, built a 
Chapel on which he inscribed, "To God, erected by Voltaire." 
Be that as it may, certainly, the office of religion is to make the mind 
reverent, humble and industrious. It enables men through a pure heart 
to see God, to receive His revelation and with it the keys of the king- 
dom. When we truly see God anywhere we see Him everywhere. 
Such were Mr. Houghton's convictions. He whose great name stands 
first in the act of the incorporation of the College, Hon. William 
Claflin, will bear witness to them. That name recalls one who shared 
this and every other noble sentiment with him. Her sweet dignity and 
strength of character, the ideal of Christian womanhood is a benedic- 
tion in this place to-day. The Alumna? of the College, who are our "re- 
serves," know of his purpose. That court of final appeal — public opin- 
ion — rejoices to have this Chapel carry out the old spirit in a new way. 
If we are, as it is said, more affected by what we see than by what we 
hear, this building has a noble work to do. 

It should be remembered that Mr. Houghton did not overlook the 
details of college life in a broad view of its intent. He was watchful 
of whatever concerns sound learning in the health and happiness of daily 
life. Bodily exercise "profits little" in comparison with the broad sweep 
of "godliness," but that "little" is of the greatest value. Sanitary con- 
ditions include whatever secures a good conscience, an active mind 
and a sunny life. The end lights the way. 

Mr. Houghton lived in the spirit of St. Paul, " It is a very small thing 
that I should be judged of you. He that judgeth me is the Lord." In 
the service of his Master he was trained to search for himself until he 
saw truth clearly and therefore rightly. He saw in His light rightly, 
and could not fail to see clearly. Courage was, with Mr. Houghton — 
as the word suggests — an "affair of the heart." He desired that the 
love of Christ should train all hearts, independent of human opinion, 
into fellowship with God. The new Chapel was given that it might 
become the school of self-reliance. 

With an intelligent strength of purpose, Mr. Houghton united a gra- 
cious manner. These were in effect one, like the light and heat of the 
sun. He earnestly desired for you all, those Christian influences which 

proceed from a good heart, and express themselves in the refinement 
of every good word and work. Mr. Durant was not more insistant upon 
the close alliance which exists between religion and the fine arts than this 
great friend of Wellesley. They recognized the same purpose revealing 
itself in the mount at one time by patterns of " cunning work " — or more 
exactly " works of the thinker," and manifesting itself at another time in 
the commandments. From both of these the face of Moses caught the 
glow of an unconscious nobility. Mr. Houghton knew how much the 
success of an education when applied to life depends upon the manner 
in which it is used. He valued a pleasing address as a continual letter 
of introduction, and it would not be amiss to add — a letter of credit! 
Lady Elizabeth Hastings, when building chapels and schools, was by 
the power of association building into the secret training of her heart 
what was revealed openly in her charming personality. The saying of 
Sir Richard Steele is among our familiar household words. "To love 
her is a liberal education." There is no law of society or of the land 
which can secure rights for anyone. The test of all ability and the place 
it fills is usefulness. But there is no good thing which may not be lost 
or made twice blessed by the manner in which it is done. It is a felici- 
tous thing to have the Chapel so near "Music Hall" and the "Art 
Building." It stands in the center of all the buildings. It is a silent voice 
to witness for the quality which endears — for " charity " or " dearness." 
St. Paul thought that this gift is to be desired more than tongues or 
knowledge or faith or hope. 

The memory of your benefactor would not be complete, if we did not 
recall his sympathy with those who found their struggle for an education 
full of difficulties. This christlike "feeling of infirmities" has made 
his name, with the name of Mr. Durant, sacred to all who love the best 
interests of humanity. It would be strange if it were not so. Mr. Hough- 
ton came to Boston as Joseph came into Egypt with nothing to sustain 
him but the integrity of his own strong heart. He knew how often lives 
which would otherwise have been happy in doing good are embittered 
by their discouragements. Mr. Houghton and his wife as advisers or 
trustees from the beginning of the college, gave generously of their 
time, thought and material resources, and above all their sympathy, to 
make rough places smooth. They saved with their "sweetness and 
light," for sweetness and light, those who were to be leaders of the gen- 
eration so close at hand. They did all in imitation of Him who never 
despaired of His mission, or regretted His trials, or doubted the love of 

his Father. This service will continue in a building into which by terms 
of the gift, no daily tasks, or amusements will intrude. It is sacred to 
holy consolations which blend with memories, " As one whom his 
mother comforteth." It will kindle by its altars helpful college friend- 
ships, for He said, " I have called you friends." It will echo the applause 
of unseen witnesses, "Well done, good and faithful servants." It will 
make discipline perfect in its gracious authority saying continually, 
" Remember those that have rule over you." 

May the memory of Mr. Houghton ever stand by this new gate 
called " Beautiful " not to bestow alms, but to give the power to go 
about in the self-respecT: of self-support and the joy of new found 
strength. Do you ask, "In whose name" he will help discouraged souls 
to rise up, and walk, praising God. You will see His cross upon the cor- 
ner stone looking steadfastly towards the north-east in the path of our 
New England storms. 

Upon the Bible which rests in this corner stone is written a message 
from the 1 1 8th Psalm. It suggests beyond the loyal service of a trus- 
tee, the self-reliance, princely courtesy and warm sympathy of the man, 
the great faith which inspired it all. "The Lord is my strength and my 
song and is become my salvation. I shall not die but live and declare 
the works of the Lord." In the same Psalm is your response, " God 
is the Lord which hath showed us light. O give thanks unto the 
Lord." The coming years will remember these friends who have so 
generously yet unconsciously reared in this chapel a monument to 
filial devotion and will go to this psalm for the refrain, "We have 
blessed you out of the house of the Lord." Those who are present as 
a great cloud of witnesses will not wait for that day. We invoke from 
them and with them a blessing to-day upon the second generation of 
those who in this chapel "Honour Father and Mother." May the 
dear child who bears the name of one of your benefactors and may all 
the daughters of Wellesley be " as corner stones polished after the 
similitude of a palace." May their characters be built into strength and 
beauty "Jesus Christ himself the chief corner stone." 
We rest upon these words of the old and the new Testament. Their 
golden wings in this holiest of places which we consecrate with our 
songs and prayers and memories, touch one another in the splendour 
of God above our Mercy Seat. 

The Wellesley Magazine. 

Vol. VI. 


No. 3. 





EVA G. POTTER, '98. 


The Wellesley Magazine is published monthly, from October to June, by a board of editors 
chosen from the Student Body. 

All literary contributions may be sent to Miss Betty Scott, Wellesley College, Wellesley, Mass. 

AH items of college interest, and communications to be inserted in the department of Free Press, 
will be received by Miss Rachel S. Hoge, Wellesley College, Wellesley, Mass. 

All alumnae news should be sent to Miss Helen M. Kelsey, Wellesley, Mass. 

Advertising business is conducted by Miss Mary L. Barker, Wellesley College, Wellesley, Mass. 

Subscriptions to the Magazine and other business communications should in all cases be sent to 
Miss Eva G. Potter, Wellesley College, Wellesley, Mass. 

Terms, $1.75 per year; single copies, 25 cents. Payment should be made by money order. 


Beautiful for situation and rich in historic interest is the spot where, 
in 1868, was founded an institution destined to be a mighty factor in solving 
not only the negro, but the Indian problem as well. Before it, with woods 
and fields stretching far beyond to the westward, are the sparkling waters of 
Hampton Creek, just outside whose mouth is the spacious harbor of Hamp- 
ton Roads, its blue surface often dotted with scores of white sails lit up by 
the light of the morning sun, as it rises over the Chesapeake. Long years 
ago, up these very waters, sailed Captain John Smith on his way to found the 
colony at Jamestown, and a little later that cargo of negro slaves, the first 
to land upon our shores. Back in the country is the battleground of Big 
Bethel, while three miles to the east of us is Fortress Monroe. 


It was just after the close of the Civil War that there came to take 
charge of the Freedmen's Bureau at Hampton a gallant young officer, born 
of missionary parents in the Sandwich Islands, educated under Dr. Mark 
Hopkins at Williams College, and placed in command of colored troops dur- 
ing the war. He had long before seen, as in a prophet's vision, the school 
that was to be ; and as he rode through the tangled growth of the deserted 
plantation that had for months been a hospital camp for sick and wounded 
Union soldiers, with the intuition so characteristic of him he exclaimed, 
" Here is the place for the school ! " 

In some old hospital barracks, with fourteen black boys and girls, ex- 
slaves, as pupils, and two teachers, the work of Hampton Institute began. 
From the outset General Armstrong's plan was clearly defined. The stu- 
dents were to receive instruction in English branches only; they were to 
help pay their way by labor, and they were to be taught that religion was a 
matter not of emotion merely, but of character. And so from the first the 
motto of the school has been, Train the head, the hand, and the heart. 

At first the industrial training was mainly along agricultural lines, with 
housework for the girls. As the years went by, one shop after another was 
erected, where various trades were taught under the apprentice system, and 
dormitory after dormitory was added as the number of students increased, 
until at the time of General Armstrong's death, in 1893, over six hundred 
young men and women were enrolled, and the whole plant was valued at 
over five hundred thousand dollars. 

Meantime the Indians had become a marked feature of the work. The 
first, a band of ex-prisoners of war, who had been in confinement for three 
years at St. Augustine, came in 1878. Since that time the United States 
Government has provided for the personal expenses of one hundred and 
twenty Indians yearly. Tuition for them, as for the colored students, is 
provided by friends in the north. 

It is a bright October morning, and scores of Indian and colored young 
men, in neatly fitting navy-blue uniforms, have formed in line on the parade 
ground, ready for inspection. The commandant, a black man, a graduate 
of the school, with fine face and soldierly bearing, marches down the line to 
see that shoes are blacked, linen clean, and coats brushed. His duty done, 
the big bell summons the line to morning prayers in the large assembly room 


of Academic Hall. The girls, in fresh white aprons and with bookbags in 
hand, are already gathering. The morning service is brief — only ten minutes 
long. The chaplain recites a verse of Scripture, and others follow his ex- 
ample : now a sensitive, shrinking Indian girl ; now a young officer of the 
battalion, distinguished by his gilt shoulder straps ; now a plain little black 
girl, fresh from the country ; now a dignified member of the senior class. A 
hymn is sung, and then the chaplain offers a few petitions for help and guid- 
ance. A simple service it is, but because of its influence the whole day is 

During the next twenty minutes the members of the senior class have 
singing, and the juniors recite in Old Testament history, while the middlers 
discuss the news of the day. All too soon the signal is given for change of 
classes, and we follow our guide to one of the recitation rooms. No Latin 
shall we find at Hampton. Here, instead, is a junior class deep in the mys- 
teries of capital letters, whose teacher is giving a lesson in morals, having for 
its subject the importance of care in little things — even the right use of a 
period. A pile of compositions lie upon the table. They are letters home, 
telling about the opening of the new term. As we glance them over we 
find many an omission of punctuation marks, many a misspelled word, many 
an error in grammar, and many an awkward sentence. Will eight months 
hence find an improvement in these beginners ? Surely there is work ahead 
for the teacher. 

In another room we find a class in geography. A sand-table stands 
before the pupils. In a moment a volcanic cone rises before their eyes, and 
a block of lava is passed around for inspection. Then a search is made 
among the maps for the great volcanic regions of the earth, and the story of 
Vesuvius is briefly told, while all turn to a picture of that wonderful moun- 
tain. We wish to stay, but our negro guide bids us follow him to a class in 
elementary science, where, in the chemical laboratory, students are experi- 
menting with oxygen. Much is made at Hampton of the importance of 
training the power of observation. Just across the hall we find a junior 
class learning, through the beautiful pictures in " Snowbound," to love the 
New England poet. In another, we find the seniors searching for hidden 
treasures in "The Vision of Sir Launfal." To these black boys and girls, 
whose lives have been so barren of culture, such beautiful poems open up a 


new world. We are especially interested in a senior civil government class. 
To the young men, the topics there discussed are of especial interest, having, 
as they do, so practical a bearing upon the days soon to come, when they 
must take prominent places in the communities to which they go. 

The twelve o'clock chimes ring out too soon for us to visit the history, 
Bible, and arithmetic classes, and we repair to Virginia Hall, to watch the 
battalion come in to dinner. Soon strains of music are heard, and we see 
the ranks, led by the band, marching around the drivew r ay by the water's 
edge. Six companies there are, — the " boys" of Hampton Institute, — some 
in the twenties, many in their teens. They are younger now than were the 
students of fifteen years ago, for the country schools are better taught, and 
in many cases have longer terms, so that the young people are ready for 
Hampton at a much earlier age than formerly. The color guard pass in 
ahead of the others, bearing the ' ' stars and stripes " and the school flag of navy 
blue, with the monogram H. N. P. in white. They stand just inside the 
doorway of the great dining hall, while under the arch made by the flags 
passes the great throng of students and visitors. A bell is sounded, and with 
bowed heads the six hundred negroes and Indians join in singing the grace. 
It is no unusual thing to see tears trickling down the cheeks of gray-haired 
men as the pathos of this scene overmasters them. 

Dinner over and dish-washing ended, the bell summons for the afternoon 
session, different in many ways from the morning hours. There are classes 
in cooking and sewing, lessons in sloyd, and gymnastic drill for the girls, 
while the young men have instruction in manual training or agriculture. 
Hampton firmly believes that intellectual trainingbut partially fits her students 
for life, and that her girls must be prepared for the home, understanding 
how to provide for the bodily needs of their families. She believes that her 
young men should know how to cultivate successfully the rich soil of the 
South, as upon such knowledge will depend, to a very great extent, the 
future prosperity of its vast negro population. The same is true of the 
Indian, now that he is admitted to the rights of citizenship. 

We must not leave Academic Hall without seeing the Normal Class. 
Until quite recently every Hampton graduate has had training in methods 
of teaching, and has gone out from the school with a teacher's certificate. 
Now only those who have received the Academic diploma take the course 


of normal lessons. This class is small, but is increasing in size every year. 
Hundreds of graduates are now teaching; in the towns and in the rural dis- 
tficts of the South, while some, of whom Booker T. Washington is the 
acknowledged leader, have built up schools of higher grade. It is hoped 
that while fewer teachers may be sent out under the new plan, the quality 
of work they are able to do will be greatly improved. 

One of the most interesting of the recent developments at Hampton is 
the opening of the new Trade Schools, in a large brick building, having 
eight wings and a central court. In each of these schools are taught the 
principles of a trade. Let us take a peep at the bricklaying and plastering 
departments. In the former we find four young men just beginning the 
trade. They have built a corner of a wall about four feet high and four 
inches thick. Near it is another of twice the thickness of the first. Farther 
on is a chimney, perfect in every respect except that it is only a few feet 
high. On the opposite side of the room is the corner of a house, with frame- 
work for one window and a door. All these pieces of work are soon to be 
taken down, and the bricks cleaned and packed away for future use, while 
the young men take a course of lessons in the plastering room. Here we 
find the framework of ten alcoves, which the students will lath, plaster, and 
hard finish. Then they will take down the work, leaving the frame ready 
for others. 

Similar work is going on in the carpentry, blacksmithing, and painting 
schools. Under the apprentice system the shops could seldom be made to 
pay from a financial standpoint, for the labor employed was unskilled, and 
as fast as a boy became of value to the shop he left, and his place was filled 
by another. Now, no one is to go into a shop until he has had a thorough 
coirrse in one of the trade schools. A similar building is going up for the 
girls, where the various branches of domestic science will be taught more 
fully than now, and with better appliances. Four of the young men now at 
work upon the building have already taken the bricklaying course at the 
Trade School. 

And now for a walk about the outskirts of the grounds. Here comes a 
young man with saw and hammer. He is just from the carpenter shop, and 
is on his way to do a bit of repairing on one of the cottages. We call at the 
printing office, and see the fresh sheets of the Southern Workman coming 


rapidly from between the rollers of the steam press. As we come out we 
meet a student. His shoes were made at the shop yonder; his trim uniform 
came last week from the tailoring department close by; while his linen was 
ironed in the school laundry, where many a girl washes or irons all daj% at- 
tending evening school two hours each night. "We hear the sound of an 
anvil, and our guide tells us that it comes from the school blacksmith shop. 
While he is speaking there passes us a shining new wagon, built at one 
shop, ironed at another, and painted at another; while the harness, strong 
and neatly made, is a product of still a fourth. 

The day is fast passing, and we must forego a trip to the farm stretch- 
ing off toward the Whittier School, where the children of the county are 
taught, and to the barn with its forty head of cattle and score of horses. 
Instead, from the front veranda of the old plantation mansion, now known 
as the principal's house, we watch the sun as it sets behind the browns and 
golds of the October woods, tinging with rose and violet every inlet of the 
glassy creek, and we say to ourselves, " Was ever spot more beautiful?" 

Soon the happy faces of the young people are seen once more about the 
dining-room tables, and many a tale is told of the day's experiences. Supper 
over, at a given signal those who have all day been at work in the shops 
or on the farm, in the sewing department or in the laundry, rise and pass to 
Academic Hall for evening prayers and night school, where, till nine o'clock, 
they will forget the plane and the plough, the needle and the washboard, 
and devote themselves to the mysteries of arithmetic, geography, and gram- 
mar. Meanwhile the members of the trade classes and of the academic de- 
partment file silently upstairs to Virginia Hall Chapel for evening worship, 
after which they will repair to their various study halls to prepare the mor- 
row's lessons. 

And so has passed a day at Hampton. We wish that we might remain 
through the week to attend the earnest, helpful Christian Endeavor meeting, 
to see some of the circles of King's Daughters at work making scrapbooks 
and dressing dolls, to send out to graduates' schools at Christmas time, and 
to attend the great social given in the big gymnasium on Saturday evening. 
We wish we might spend a Sunday at Hampton, for then we might have a 
morning ride behind the " missionary mules," with a party of 3'oung people 
who are going to teach the little black folk of a Sunday school over by the bay^ 


We might visit the Bible classes of Hampton Institute, and gather in the 
beautiful Memorial Church for preaching service, as the afternoon shadows 
begin to lengthen. We should certainly wish to attend the meetings of the 
Y. M. C. A. and the King's Daughters ; but perhaps we should most enjoy 
the family gathering in Virginia Hall Chapel, and the rich, mellow music of 
the plantation melodies as there sung at the close of the day by these chil- 
dren and grandchildren of the slaves, whose bitter experiences gave them birth. 
But we must be oif on the morning train, and as we leave the spot which 
will ever after be so full of interest to us, we ask ourselves : " Why is all 
this outlay? Why this enormous expense of thousands upon thousands of 
dollars annually given by philanthropic friends ? " And as we question, we 
remember the words of the beloved principal of the school, the man whose 
rare tact and wisdom are so successfully carrying on the work begun by 
General Armstrong, "If any student has come to this school with the 
thought of what he can get for himself alone, then Hampton is not the place 
for him." Here is Hampton's secret : and who shall estimate the influence 
upon the South-land and the Western plains of the thousands who have gone 
out from this institution with the question in their hearts, " What can I do 
for my people ? " 

Myrtilla J. Sherman, '79. 


"There are really only two things the successful teacher needs to 
have, — knowledge of his subject matter and knowledge of his pupils." 
Add to this that in subject matter it is indispensable that the teacher shall 
have advanced considerably beyond the limit to which he is to conduct his 
pupils, and we have a brief but satisfactoiy test by which to judge the aim 
and work of any training school for teachers. 

In aim, or plan, The Teachers' College of New York satisfies this test. 
By its affiliation with Columbia it makes it possible for a student to secure a 
good acquaintance with his subject matter while carrying a course in meth- 
ods, observation, study of pupils, etc. One weakness of the work in this 
combination seems to lie in the fact that the departments in the two colleges 


not being under the same direction there is a lack of connection in the work, 
and some time is liable to be frittered away. Still, at worst, there are 
possibilities for any student that do not exist where the school in which 
subject matter may be studied, and the school in which practice may be 
combined with study of methods, are not at all connected, or even are 

In Wellesley College, and some others, a worthy attempt is made to 
supply the twofold requisite for a teacher by teachers' courses in the several 
departments. This plan, in its fullest extent, leaves only one thing to be 
desired, — a school of lower grades in such relation to the college that actual 
practice and opportunity for observation may be had by the college students ; 
i. e., the college should be provided with a pedagogical laboratory as well 
as with scientific laboratories. 

But the plan of the New England normal schools is the weakest pos- 
sible. In a normal school there is no opportunity for advanced study of 
subject matter, nor for such study as shall furnish a foundation on which the 
student may build independently after leaving school ; nor, as a rule, have 
the teachers in normal schools had such training in their specialties as would 
fit them to direct such work. Only in rare cases does a student enter the 
normal school with more than a very ordinary high school course, any 
"special," "English," "three years' course," etc., being sufficient for 
admission. The very few college students who transfer to normal schools 
are usually those whose mental caliber has proved unequal to the work of 
the college course ; in fact, any other would be apt to find that a normal 
course involves a sad waste of time. As a rule, the teachers in a normal 
school are graduates of the school itself; some with, some without, a brief 
special course at some college or summer school. The inevitable results of 
such inbreeding follow. 

An extract from a letter written by the first assistant, or more correctly 
vice principal, in one of the best Massachusetts normal schools, to a graduate 
of that school who had tried to show wherein the training she had received 
in a four years' course, which professed to fit her for high school teaching, 
had proved insufficient for, the demands of her work as a teacher, indicates 
so well the existing condition of things that I copy it here verbatim: — 

"It seems to me," writes the vice principal, "that you misapprehend 


the aim of normal schools. When I said that the girls would not go on to 
higher work, I meant that it was not the province of a normal school to give 
them that knowledge of algebra which would be necessary for a prospective 
college student, but to do for them that which would fit them to teach in the 

public schools. (Sic/) . . . You probably came to thinking it was 

a school in which you were to obtain an education, instead of one in which 
you were to .study the way of starting others in that direction. By your 
thirst for knowledge and your previous study you belonged to the minority," 
etc., etc. 

A school which takes for its province to do that which shall fit teachers 
for public schools of all grades, should not ignore, or set aside, or even 
neglect the needs of the minority who have a thirst for knowledge ; yet this 
Is inevitable under present conditions, and there is reason to fear that the 
recent creation of new normal schools, will prove only a watering of stock 
ah'eady too poor. 

Two ways occur to the present writer by which these evils might be 
remedied in Massachusetts. The money involved in the plants and running 
expenses of eight State normal schools might be used to establish one State 
college with a professional course for prospective teachers. The College of 
Liberal Arts should be so well equipped that it might be attractive to gen- 
eral students who might be required to pay moderate fees. Tuition should 
be wholly remitted to those taking the professional course, and in this only 
those should be continued who show good capacity in their work in general. 
Scholarships might be established for the encouragement of students of 
special promise. Cities preferring teachers of lower attainments could 
easily secure them by local training schools, but the expense of these 
schools should not be thrown on the State. 

Another "way out" is as follows: The money now devoted to the 
maintenance of eight normal schools might be used to establish a thorough 
professional school in connection with an existing college of high grade. 
The connection between the two should be close and vital. Membership in 
the professional school should be open only to members of the affiliated 
college and to college graduates ; and to members of the professional school 
all fees in both schools should be remitted. 

Special, '88. 



It was four o'clock in the afternoon, and there were still two hours left 
in which to think, dress, and catch the evening train. Richard Blake set 
himself down on the footboard of his bed and considered. For six or seven 
minutes he swung his long legs in silent meditation, and with a childlike 
disregard for the hieroglyphics which his heels were carving into the wood. 
Then he rose as one whose course of action is decided, and proceeded to 
clothe himself with unusual care. Now, this is not an easy matter for a clerk 
in a small town, on a salary of eighteen dollars a week. " Solomon in all 
his glory may possibly have outshone me, but I guess I'll do," soliloquized 
Richard Blake, as he surveyed as much of himself as was visible in the 
mirror over his washstand. There was a good deal of Richard and very 
little of the mirror, so what the mirror could not very well reflect had to be 
left to chance, and to the kind Providence which especially protects the 
helpless. "I do not want the little girl to be ashamed of me," said Richard. 

He unlocked a bureau drawer and took out a leather photograph case, 
ancient, worn, and dingy. Very soberly, very reverently he opened it. 
It held all he knew of a past and of a childhood. He looked at the four 
faded daguerreotypes, — a man in an old-fashioned Prince Albert coat, stand- 
ing stiffly erect, one hand on the back of a chair ; a woman with a delicate 
oval face, and black hair parted and drawn smoothly down over the ears ; a 
small boy in kilts and white stockings, whom he took to be himself at the 
age of five; and a mite of a girl baby still in long dresses. He stared 
solemnly at three of the pale, faded ghosts of the long ago, and wondered 
why they had survived so long, when their originals had vanished from the' 
earth with all that had once been theirs. No ; not quite vanished. He 
looked again at the mite of a girl baby. "You are alive and grown up 
now," he thought. " You are probably a beautiful girl, and you have lived 
in luxury. I am a clerk at eighteen dollars a week, and prospects. Will 
you be glad to know me, I wonder, little sister, whom I have never known?" 
The baby lips gave no response, so Richard Blake closed the case and put it 
into his inside coat pocket. Then he snatched up his hut and tore out of his 
room, down the boarding-house stairway, and into the street, as if he were 
fleeing from the wrath to come. But he was merely hurrying toward love 
and companionship after the long, lonely years. 


Panting, flushed, excited, he reached the train a full half hour too early, 
and, to his disgust, found himself compelled to curb his impatience with an 
evening paper, and to satisfy his soul with the latest account of the Chinese 
war and the tariff complications. He suddenly realized that he was still hot 
and breathless with running, and that people probably thought him a lunatic. 
He straightened himself into the usual tall young man with the thin, nervous 
face, and the unusually preoccupied air. But he felt like a minister on the 
way to his first sermon. 

The Huntingdons were prominent people in the city. Mr. Huntingdon 
was prosperous, influential, and respected. Gossip, supported by Dunn & 
Co., rated him as fabulously wealthy, and there was talk of bringing him up 
for Congress. It was thought that he would be willing to run. Mrs. Hun- 
tingdon was known as one of the most popular women in society, and her 
gowns and dinner parties were described at length in the Sunday papers. 
Richard Blake thought of these things, and felt mentally "cold all over." 
Then he thought'of Ruth Huntingdon, his sister, in spite of all ; as much his 
sister as when the Huntingdons had found her in the Southern orphanage, 
and had been won by her baby sweetness to adopt her. He would see her, 
speak to her, and, — well, chance could decide the rest, decide it once for all. 

"For Mrs. Huntingdon," said the maid. Mrs. Huntingdon gave one- 
hasty, nervous glance at Ruth, who was idly strumming a new waltz at the 
piano. She handed the card to her husband and hurried down to the re- 
ception room. The lights were low as she entered, but the young man was 
sitting near the fireplace, looking thoughtfully into the flame, and the glow 
of the gas log lit up his thin, fine face. Something in its eager gravity 
touched Mrs. Huntingdon ; as he rose to meet her she held out her small 
jewelled hand to his with cordiality. 

"This is Mr. Blake?" she said. "Please be seated. I will call Ruth 
immediately ; you must be anxious to see her ; I have told her all ; I 
think she knew it all before, — about her adoption, I mean, — but not about 
you. Forgive us for that; it was very selfish of us, but we did not like 


to think of any one having any claim upon her but ourselves. Now, of 
course, it is different. Mr. Huntingdon has seen the lawyer, and admits 
that you are quite correct; that the proofs are full and all data satisfac- 
tory, — we need not go into that now. Mr. Huntingdon also made inquir- 
ies concerning you yourself, — that is justifiable, you know, — and all we 
know is of credit to you. This most of all. We shall be glad to have 
you our own friend, and to offer you a share in your sister's home when- 
ever you come up to the city. That is all, and, — O yes, perhaps there 
is more than that ; but I will leave that to Mr. Huntingdon. She turned 
and hurried to the foot of the staircase. " Ruth," she called. 

"Yes, mother," said a voice from above. Richard Blake started. A 
hard knot rose in his throat ; his hands clasped and unclasped themselves ; 
he felt himself on the verge of crying, and swore at himself gently under his 
breath, as men will sometimes do when deeply stirred. The tender chords 
in a man's nature still vibrate easily at twenty-five. The boy braced him- 
self; it would never do to make a scene. That was ridiculously, unneces- 
sarily melodramatic, besides being a strictly feminine prerogative. He tried 
to rehearse the little speech which he had composed for the occasion. The 
rustle of a girl's gown swished slowly down the stairway in the darkness. 
He felt his heart beat once, twice, three times. A slender figure appeared 
in the doorway, — a delicate oval face, with the black hair parted and drawn 
smoothly over the forehead. And the carefully prepared speech melted into 
nothingness as brother and sister came to the Meeting of the Ways. 

Edith B. Lehmax, 1900. 


Listen to the stately stepping 

Of the ghostly feet that tread 

In this temple of the dead ; 
And the wild, weird pirouetting 
Of the hollow winds coquetting 
With the solemn silhouetting 

Of the phantoms, as they loom 

In endless phalanx through the gloom. 


See the silent, silver shimmering 

Of the midnight moon that wanes, 

Wondering at the spirit trains, 
As among the shadows kneeling, 
Or between the columns stealing, 
Soundlessly they go, revealing 

Forms of worshipers of old 

Come again from out the mold. 

Note their glimmering garments sweeping, 

As again they restless roam 

To the place of ghost and gnome. 
Where is now Apollo's luting? 
Where Arcadian Pan's clear fluting ? 
Hark, the dismal owl's shrill hooting ! 

Whither gone ? Ye whom they miss, 

Gods of the Acropolis ! 

Edith M. Wherry, 1901. 


' ' How can I do it ? " said Miss Abby to herself, with bitter self-accusation,, 
as she rocked back and forth and knitted nervously. "In the first place, 
how could I say such a thing; and now, how can I keep my word?" 

Every time she looked at Benjamin her sorrow and remorse broke out 
afresh. He was so unconscious of the little that was between him and , 

as he lay blinking in the sun, purring contentedly. Miss Abby's firm lips 
trembled involuntarily, in spite of all the years' practice they had had in 
moving only at the will of their owner. 

For the fiftieth time she went over in her mind all the circumstances 
which led up to the threatened death of Benjamin. A feeling of horror stole 
over her when she realized that she, Abby Curtis, had actually betted. She 
had betted away the life of a creature. But how could she have foreseen the 
result? Had she not brought up her family of eleven cats with regard to the 
most approved principles of cat honor and morality ? Had she not, time and 
again, put a piece of juicy steak upon a low table and left the eleven alone 


with it? And had she not always upon her return found it untouched, while 
the faithful eleven slept or sat solemnly licking their chops? When the 
skeptic butcher had remarked, "I bet there's no livin' cat but what would 
steal if you left her alone long enough," no wonder, then, that she had risen 
in her wrath and declared that her cats, anyway, were not thieves. To the 
laughing reply of the butcher that he " wouldn't stake much on it," she had 
answered, with trembling dignity : "I would. I would stake the life of my 
Benjamin." [Benjamin happened at that critical moment to be near his 

The butcher had been somewhat astonished at her earnestness. A 
butcher of his stamp, with five little prospective butchers at home, could 
hardly understand the feelings of a lonely spinster for a cat. But he had 
called back cheerily, as he strode off to his wagon, " All right, Miss Abby ; 
you stand by your word, and if your cat doesn't improve a good chance to 
steal a piece of meat, I'll give you a pound of the best ninety-cent tea." 

She had been so sure that Benjamin would stand the test, that she had 
not feared to say the word, which must now be fulfilled. She had been so 
calm when she had prepared the tender, juicy bit of steak that was to be the 
cause of one cat's temptation and fall ! When it was all ready to be placed 
on the low wooden shelf, from which all her cats ate together, she had taken 
Benjamin into another room and given him as hearty a meal as cat ever ate. 
Then, with some whispered words of warning and a loving pat, she had 
carried him back and left him alone with his temptation. 

At the end of the five hours — she considered that would be a fair time — 
she had gone in trembling triumph, had opened the door, and called quaver- 
ingly, " Benjy ! Benjy !" Benjamin had come bounding to meet her, and to 
rub about her skirts with °dad lashings of his tail. Then the two had advanced 
together to inspect the piece of meat on the cats' table. They had stood 
looking at the low wooden shelf, — Benjamin with an expectant air, his head 
on one side, and Miss Abby with growing perplexity. She had stooped and 
scanned the little table narrowly. Could it be that after all these years her 
keen, bright eyes had failed her, and she needed spectacles ? She had looked 
again. Where was the meat? With inquiring look she had turned to 
Benjamin, who had looked at her in the same way. Then it had slowly 
dawned upon her that the meat was not there. Benjamin must have eaten it ! 


With a stifled cry she had caught Benjamin in her arms and hurried away. 
All the long night she had hardly slept. One thought was in her mind, 
"To-morrow Benjamin must die." 

And now to-morrow had come ! As nine o'clock came on Miss Abby's 
knitting needles clicked faster and more furiously. They flashed in the sun 
like zigzagged lightning. When the clock struck nine she folded up her 
knitting and glanced despairingly at Benjamin. Then she spoke to him, but 
he only yawned, and blinked, and stretched. 

As she slowly walked down cellar with Benjamin she wondered if it were 
wicked that the story of Abraham and Isaac should come persistently to her 
mind at this time. She led the way to the ominous-looking tub, turned 
bottom side up on the cold stone floor, with the sinister-looking bottle beside 
it. Miss Abby choked as she looked up. 

When all was ready she quickly clasped the unsuspecting Benjamin, and, 
burying her face in his warm fur, she silently rocked back and forth on the 
floor. The clock upstairs struck the half hour. She must do it. It must 
be over before the time for the morning round of the inhuman butcher. But 
there was still time to give Benjamin one more good meal. With halting 
tread she passed up the stairs and went to the cupboard. She opened the 
door and looked in. With a gasping cry she sank back into a chair. Inside 
the cupboard, carefully set apart on a piece of clean paper, was a bit of meat. 

O, what had she done? Why wasn't there somebody to tell her what 
she had done ? Could she believe the evidence of her senses ? Miss Abby 
forced herself to sit quietly in her chair, and solemnly ask and answer a 
question : "Did I forget to put the meat which I had prepared on the cats' 
bench? Yes ; I forgot to put the meat on the cats' bench." Benjamin, the 
beloved, was innocent. With a joy too deep for expression Miss Abby 
walked quietly down cellar. She replaced the tub, and put everything care- 
fully away. Then with peace in her soul and Benjamin in her arms she 
went upstairs. 

Nina Fostee Pooe, 1900. 



I was meditatively biting my pencil, trying to think up material for 
my next theme, when suddenly I heard a voice. I was very much startled, 
for I thought that I was alone. 

" Please, oh, please, I beg of you, do not bite me any more ! " it en- 
treated piteously. In great surprise I looked in the direction of the voice, 
down at the short, hard-used little stump which I held in my hand. It 
really looked so abused and miserable that my heart misgave me." 

" O, do excuse me," I said, humbly. ' ' I didn't realize that I was hurting 

" No," he replied dryly ; " evidently not." 

There was an embarrassing pause. I didn't know what to say. He 
was plainly angered, for his shaved lip curled sarcastically, and I could feel 
him growing warm in my hand. Suddenly he turned and fixed upon me a 
blunt, lead-like stare. 

"How long are you going to abuse my patience?" he asked, hotly. 
I jumped, and involuntarily dropped him into my lap, as quickly as the 
monkey in the fable dropped the glowing coal. " Is this the way you treat 
a person who has toiled for you for six long weeks? who has w T orn him- 
self to the very bone for you? who has almost died for you?" he burst 
out impetuously. "If it had not been for me where would you be now? 
Was it not I who made you pass your examinations for college? Think how 
I worked ! How I scratched for you, day in, day out, for four long days ! 
And there you are, you, who claim to be gentle and kind, biting, yes, act- 
ually biting at my ribs ! O ye great pens and little pencils ! " He stopped, 
choked with anger. 

Then, mustering up my courage, I began. In the first place I begged 
his forgiveness for my cruelty and thoughtlessness, explaining to him that 
his patient silence made me sometimes forget that he had feelings. In the 
second place, I thanked him most heartily for his devotion to me, and for 
his untiring zeal in my behalf; assuring him that, had it not been for him, 
my fate would have been indeed a sad one. (I could see that he was con- 
ciliated in a good measure by this move on my part.) And, lastly, I 
promised him faithfully that I would treat him, for the rest of his life, with 
as much kindness and care as it was in my power to bestow upon him. 


He really almost smiled when I finished, and said in the kindliest way, 
*' Well, we'll draw a line through what we've written, then, and begin on a 
clean page." 

" Agreed," said I, only too willing to let bygones be bygones. 

" I am very sorry," I continued, " but, really, I cannot remember how 
you and I first met. You see, your family is 30 very large that I can hardly 
be expected, I think, to remember the circumstances of my introduction to 
each one of you." 

" Of course you can't," he said heartily ; " and I shall be most happy 
to help you recall a matter so pleasant to me." 

While he cleared his throat I thought to myself: " Hasn't he just the 
sweetest disposition in the world ! How could I ever have been so mean to 
him ? " 

" Well," he began, pleasantly, "before I fell into your hands I had 
lived all my life in a large, dark place, called a drawer, in a crowded, dusty 
Boston store. My life there was a delightfully happy one until Scratch was 
taken from me. Then, oh, how miserable I was ! " 

" And who was Scratch? " I interrupted. 

"O, Scratch was my wife, — a fountain pen, you know," he explained. 
"She was a fine girl, too, if she did sell for only ten cents. She was fond 
of me, I can tell you, — wept herself almost dry when she left me." He 
swallowed hard before he continued. " Well, what was I talking about? 
O, yes ; I was pretty lonely after Scratch went, and I began to wish to be 
sold. My coat was nice and red and shiny then, not very much like what it 
— h'm — what it was before it was painted, you know, and I began to look 
out for a customer. I was very nearly sold several times to small boys, but 
I thought I would probably fare better in the hands of a girl, so when the 
boys tried me on a piece of paper, I wouldn't write. I can remember well 
the day I first saw you. You looked so pale and worried, and your hand 
shook so when you took me up, that my heart went out to you at once, and 
I said to myself: 'Now, Beatsemall ("that is my name, Beatsemall," he put 
in parenthetically), ' now, Beatsemall, here is a chance for you to help some 
one who is in trouble.' So then you bought me, and I came with you here to 
Wellesley. The rest, I think, you must remember, the examinations " 

"O, yes," I interrupted; "I never can forget " 



"O, Beatsie, is this really you?" I looked, in amazement, in the 
direction of this second voice. In a moment I understood. My fountain 
pen had fallen into my lap ! 

Julia Ballentine Park, 1901. 


Across the empty fields at dawn 

I heard a quavering, half-hushed note 

That trembled in a song-bird's throat 
But for a moment, and was gone. 

Brown, withered leaves the cold winds whirled, 

With crackling sound, across my way, 

Then silence ; and the wintry day 
Dawned cheerless on the weary world. 

R. C. 


I saw Pauline but yesterday, 

Buying a posy over the way, 

And, watching from my attic height, 
Methought the dingy shop grew bright, — 

She brought the sunshine of the May. 

She took her posies, lack-a-day ! 
And left our street a duller gray ; 
But in a dream I had last night 
I saw Pauline. 

I dreamed that after some delay, 
I penned a simple roundelay 

To sweet Pauline. Unhappy wight ! 
She scorned my verses, well she might. 
And now, in sooth, I'm loath to say 
I saw Pauline ! 

R. C. 



She did not know whether to "take up" medicine or literature. She 
had always intended to study medicine ; her " always" dated from the time 
when her brother died. She was young, but still she thought that, more 
than her girl friends, she had been interested in what she called the "study 
of life" ; the study of death also had interested her, but somehow she never 
could realize the end of human life. Many weary minutes had she tried to 
believe that separation from her friends would come ; but contemplation of 
a butterfly or a grasshopper would drive out the idea, and life, warm, joyous, 
unending and thoughtless, rushed in to drive the sad, bothersome thoughts 

Margaret loved to write ; she even preferred writing to studying bugs, 
and cutting up worms and other uncomfortably crawly and slimy animals. 
She regretted training her zoological dislikes. Life, the development of 
animal life, had always been a particular hobby with her. She believed that 
animals, like babies, keep the old world sweet, — at least grandmothers and 
old maid aunts sweet. She did not like people who did not like animals; 
people who killed mice and worms she cordially hated. Not that she loved 
mice and worms herself, for she most emphatically did not ; but she set mice 
free just the same, and she turned the cart out of the road to avoid running 
over caterpillars. She even skipped, with great discomfort to herself, over 
cracks in flagstone pavements where nocturnally belated, unhappy worms 
were crawling. 

Yet notwithstanding; all these theories and altruistic ideas about ani- 
mals, she regretfully confessed to herself that she preferred to scribble. 
Margaret had always read ; she sometimes had an uncanny feeling that her 
love for writing had been started by other people's books. She knew that 
this secondhand inspiration was not altogether right. She discovered after 
her omnivorous age, when "Alice in Wonderland," Balzac, Emerson, and 
the Duchess were equally absorbing, that she did not even care for all kinds 
of reading. When she read that ' ' a starfish had been seen tightly embracing 
a young oyster," she was not particularly interested. She smiled, because 
she thought she followed an interesting similarity. She rather preferred to 
ignore the antics of the " lower animals" when she was contemplating some 


old, familiar themes which she was sure did not in the least apply to them, 
such as love and some other things beginning with L. Still her imagination 
regretfully confessed that the appearance of a mermaid would have added 
greatly to her power of romancing. Indeed, it was hard, when one consid- 
ered medicine so much more broadening than scribbling down one's own 
thoughts, — and not always one's own, — that she must still acknowledge she 
preferred to write. 

She had written a good deal. She wrote sketches, stories, and non- 
sense. She also wrote verse spelled in her imagination with a capital V. 
She had quite a batch of sonnets, a large number of sentimental poems to her 
girl friends, and some hopefully sensible nonsense lines. She never tried to 
get anything published, for she knew that her work was but simple, rather 
plain stuff that would not " take," and without even a touch of Le Gallien- 
neism. Margaret knew that she would have to make a business out of 
literature if she ever hoped to make a success of it. She had always wanted 
to be successful. So things had become pretty much tangled wheu one 
rather helpless girl "had always intended to study medicine," " had always 
scribbled," and " had always wanted to be successful." 

" Doctor Margaret, the baby ain't no better. I done tole his father that 
he shouldn't give him any mo' whiskey. It don't seem to do him no good, 
an' his little head is sorer to-day than it wuz yesterday. His hair done got 
so matted, I reckon you'll have to cut it off. He's got a bad fever, too-: 
'taint so bad as it wuz in the night. He just lay there so quiet like an' 
moaned. An' he don't even know his own name. You know his father an' 
me have been callin' him Jamie these sixteen months ever sence you brought 
him. An' to-day he don't no mo' look as if he recognized the name dan as 
ef he never heard it. 'Deed, Doctor, I don't know who could have brought 
dat baby better. It's the first one I ever had, an' ef I ever have any mo', I 
hope you'll be as good to me as you wuz to me then. Do you recollect, 
Doctor, when he first called me ' Ma'? 'Twant so long ago? Then when he 
called his father ' dad,' I wuz 'most mo' tickled than when he found out who 
I wuz. An' law! when he said 'Miss Doctor' to you, I just couldn't get 
over it. 


" You think he ain't no better? He's got the pneumonia? How'd you 
tell that, by thumpin' his chist? Law, Doctor, ef any thing were to happen 
to that baby his father and me would jest be broken-hearted. No, I ain't 
got no mo'n twenty cents jest this minute; time's been mighty hard lately, 
but I guess that'll buy him those things you speak of. P'r'haps I could earn 
a little ef I dared wash, but you say that the soapsuds and steam is bad for 
him, and we ain't got but this one room. I done all I could to avoid 
draughts already ; we covers up the cracks in de door an' windows every 
night with our clo'es. Yes, Doctor, dere is a powerful bad smell 'round 
here ; 'taint a bit like de fresh country dis time o' year. I asked his father 
ef dere couldn't nothin' be done 'bout dat drainage runnin' right past de 
door, but he 'lowed de city authorities wouldn't do nuttin', an' he couldn't. 
Deys been asked times enough, dere's been so much fever 'round here. 

"Law, Doctor, I think Jamie's waked up. He's lookin' right straight 
at you. Don't you hear him tryin' to say, ' Miss Doctor?' Poor little man, 
your voice sounds mighty bad. I declar', I think it's worse than it wuz yes- 
terday. He always did have that way of puttin' out his little hands when 
he calls to us. He does it just de same to dat old black cat Dinah what 
hangs 'round here. One warm day dis fall I had to leave him while I went 
'round de corner to get some potatoes for his father. I let"' de door open, it 
"wuz so powerful warm, an' when I got back Jamie wuz settin' in de middle 
of de floor, 'nd dat old cat done come in at de door and sat dere lickin' his 
paws an' regardin' him. He wuz holdin' out both his little hands and sayin', 
' Miss Dinah,' as ef his whole heart wuz set on havin' dat old, dirty cat come 
rub up against him." 

" Yes, sah, my name is Mrs. Scott. So Doctor Margaret sent you, and 
I reckon it must be all right. Yes, sah, step right in here ; we ain't got but 

de one room, an' you'll find he is here, sah. No, sah, she didn't say 

nuttin' to me 'bout whether it's to be black or white ; but sence she tole you 
white, why, I reckon dat's best. No, sah, dere ain't none of our family been 
buried in dis city befoh. My folks wuz all from Georgia, and my husband 
he came from South Carolina. No, sah, I don't know Green Hill, 'les dat's 
de cemetary up dere by Wissihicken. You say to-morrow at three o'clock? 


Yes, sah ; his father an' me will be ready when <le Doctor conies for us. 
Thank you, sah ; good day." 

"Law, Honey, she done sent you a wreath of daisies; she ain't forgot 
how you always mistook 'um for live critters, an' would talk an' play with 
them by de hour when she had you up in de country wid her. No, sweet- 
heart, I reckon I forgets you can't hear me no mo' ; I guess my head ain't 
just right. I'll jest lay dis wreath in your little hands, and you can hold it 
dar till to-morrow. No, sweetheart, I won't take it away from you, then, ef 

you'd rather hold it fo'ever, Honey." 

Jeannette A. Marks, '99. 


Once upon a time, — and I must state positively in the beginning that 
it was not this year, nor this college, nor any girl you know, — two girls 
were discussing the merits of their respective colleges. Somehow the talk 
drifted to professors, with particular attention to that branch of the subject 
called " grinds " on professors. 

" I remember we played a pretty good joke on a faculty once," said 
one, " and she never saw it at all. Our head professor, Dr. W., is very for- 
getful, — the sort of woman who promises her class a written lesson next week, 
then forgets all about it, to their secret delight, and remembering it later 
springs a review on them a month after when they have forgotten. She 
makes up in sense of dignity what she lacks in memory, and will never ac- 
knowledge that she has forgotten. In the fall of my sophomore year the 
president was sick for nearly a month, and Dr. W. took charge. She had a 
little way of keeping a watchful eye on suspicious characters, and used to send 
out weekly budgets of mail calling up the girls for petty offenses against law 
and order. In her office was a list of the culprits over against a list of their 
faults, — a sort of debit and credit account for the aid of her faulty memory. 
When a girl entered out came this black book, and after the explanation, 
which the offender usually gave without question, her name was duly checked 
off. Many a time did my name go down in the book before the month was 


over. But one day we heard that the president was much better, and was 
about to return to his duties. Of course Dr. W. and the black book would 
shortly vanish, but before their departure we determined to try a little joke 
at her expense. So when the weekly budget of censuring notes went out, 
we contributed one of our own. My cousin Jessie was the victim. Next 
morning, promptly at eight, Jessie took her place in line at the office door 
with an untroubled face. She had been down in the black book too often 
before to feel anxious this time. Of course we weren't worried either, for 
we knew she could take care of herself. You ousht to hear Jess sive an 
account of what followed. She entered, and watched Dr. W's thin finger fol- 
low the names down two pages. Then the professor looked up just a little 
taken aback. 

" 'Isn't this Miss X?' 

" ' Yes,' said Jess, meekly. 

" The poor old doctor looked and looked, took off her glasses and wiped 
them carefully, and finally said : ' Have you still got the note I sent you this 
morning? Well, suppose you get it for me.' So off went Jess to her room, 
where she had a row of similar notes arranged as a border round her mirror, 
and soon returned with the bogus note. She thought she dimly realized 
that there was some joke at the bottom of it all. Now, Dr. W. was so per- 
plexed that she thought she recognized the note, and, what is more, thought 
she remembered the occasion. So she sat up very straight, frowned hard, 
and began : — 

"'Now, Miss X., you have had notes from me once too often. It 
seems that it does no good to reprimand you, so I must adopt a severer 
course. You will please confine yourself to the college grounds for the next 
two weeks, and let me see that your room is dark and quiet by ten o'clock 
at night.' 

" Well, Jess came out and we fell upon her with questions. Then, of 
course, we explained the joke, and laughed over it. But Jess didn't laugh. 
' Why on earth didn't you ask her what it was about ? ' said I. ' The idea 
of standing there and never saying a word through it all ! ' 

"'Oh,' said Jess, smiling ruefully, 'that's just the point. You got 
the wrong victim this time, girls. Two of us got locked out of the building 
last night, and climbed in through Madge's window. We were just over at 


the Chapter House, so of course it was all right, only Dr. W. would never 
look at it that way. So when she called me up this morning I thought she 
knew it all, but that it had slipped her mind. I couldn't say a word; and 
naturally I can't go back now, for she will ask why I didn't object before.'" 

" Well," said the student of the rival college, realizing that she must 
tell a story : " Fortunately we aren't driven to playing jokes on our faculty. 
They are always doing something strange themselves to keep us amused. 
There is one dear, innocent old professor, of whom we are all very fond. 
He is as absent-minded and forgetful as your Dr. W., but he doesn't care a 
rap for personal dignity, so he sometimes does odd things. One Thanks- 
giving day he was going out to dinner, and had sent off the servants before- 
hand. He lives in a neat little house facing the campus, with a tiny stable in 
the rear. He shut the door behind him and came tripping down the steps ; 
then remembered that he had left the key on the inside, and that the door 
had a spring lock. He looked around in a puzzled way, and noticed an open 
window on the second floor. If he could get in there, of course he could 
come downstairs, get the key, and come away again. Excellent thought ! 
There wasadadder in the stable. As the ladder proved too short, the zealous 
little professor dragged out his worn old buggy, then set the ladder in that, 
mounted triumphantly to the window, came downstairs, shut the door behind 
him, put the buggy and the ladder in the stable, and went on his way as 
happy as a bird in his ingenuity." 

" And the key?" questioned the first college girl. " Oh, the key was 
still in the door. The professor never thought of it again until he got home 
that night." 



The laying of the corner stone of a new building in the college grounds 
must always be an occasion of great interest. Especially is this the case 
with the students of the present, for they have no recollections of previous 
similar ceremonies. They have only heard general remarks in a reminiscent 
way from the favored few who were here at the time. A massive block of 
granite, the corner stone of the main building in deed as in name, was laid 
one afternoon in the early autumn of 1871. Mr. and Mrs. Durant and the 
workmen were the only people present, and the service was of the simplest 
kind. More elaborate preparations were made for another ceremony in 
1880, when Stone Hall was built. Invited guests, speeches, a dinner in 
College Hall, a holiday for the girls, besides the bright prospect of another 
much-needed building, made the occasion a memorable one. It was in 1880, 
too, that the corner stone of Music Hall was laid with appropriate services, 
so that by the addition of two new buildings in a single year the College 
reaped large gains. Simpson Cottage, at first jokingly known as the " Lame 
Duckery," because it was intended chiefly for nervous students, worn out by 
the noise of the main building, had the dignity and honor of a special fete at 
its dedication. There was an address by Dr. Duryea, and afterward a colla- 
tion served in the dining room at the main building. Norumbega was 
ushered in one bright June, in the decennial year of the college by the formal 
laying of a corner stone. The ceremony was simple, but interesting, for 
two reasons. First, the hymn for the occasion was written by Dr. S. F. 
Smith, the author of " America" ; and, second, the name chosen for the house 
had peculiar significance. It had been proposed to call the new building 
Decennial Cottage, but a happier suggestion won the day. Professor Hors- 
ford was at the time much interested in researches concernino- the fabled 
Norumbega, that undiscovered city supposed by some to have existed up on 
the Penobscot, and by others on the Charles. So, in compliment to him as 
one of the chief contributors to the fund for the new building, and an honor- 
ary member of the Class of '86, Norumbega was chosen as the name, and 


Professor Horsford laid the corner stone. Later, at the dedication of the 
cottage, there was a house-warming, when Professor Horsford lit the fire in 
the parlors and Whittier sent a poem on this second Norumbega. Wood 
Cottage, Freeman, and the Farnsworth Art Building had no corner-stone 
ceremony, but there was a dedication of this last. Mr. Brimmer gave the 
address, and Mr. Rotch, the architect, in a brief speech explained the design 
of the building, and expressed the hope that the little rooms at the side, now 
private apartments, might some day be devoted to architecture. Afterwards 
came the inevitable and pleasant collation in the dining room at College Hall. 
The laying of the corner stone of our new chapel, noticed elsewhere in our 
columns, closes fittingly the list of ceremonies which have inaugurated new 
buildings amonsr us. 


Our interest this month has been much attracted by the formation of 
a new social club. Believing that social clubs have a happy effect on the 
community, we are glad to welcome the Wellesley Social Union among our 
other organizations. Membership is open to all who are or have been self- 
supporting, and have, of course, some connection with the College. The 
Union is of the nature of other working-girls' clubs, and may in time join 
the Massachusetts Federation of Working-Girls' Clubs. Although a fully 
definite plan for meetings has not yet been adopted, the Club expects to 
meet twice a month for social purposes. The performance of "A Box of 
Monkeys," given just at a recent Barn Swallow Meeting, was repeated for 
the benefit of the new Club at its initial social meeting. We hope that 
future meetings may be as successful in character, and wish the Union all 


Many of us who now very readily take the Barn Swallows like many 
other blessings, for granted, have nearly forgotten the barren time when it was 
not. But before our time came the "Idler" and the " Philalethian." The 
" Idler," rejoicing in a simple and suggestive name, was born of Radcliffe's 


desire for a club that should keep the girls together. Missing much that is 
most delightful in college life by the scattering that followed on the close of 
recitations, the Radcliffe girls welcomed the social meetings as something to 
unite them. The "Idler" is naturally much smaller than our own Barn 
Swallows, and so, perhaps, more easily handled. The "idling" is almost 
entirely of a dramatic nature. As the regular time of meeting is Friday 
afternoon, when the work of the day is over, the comedies given are short, 
though carefully gotten up. Sometimes they try a more elaborate presen- 
tation, such as " On a Balcony," most successfully attempted some time ago. 
On one occasion there was a departure from the established custom in the 
shape of a regular chafing-dish party. This impromptu food exposition was, 
however, too expensive to be often repeated, and the drama is again the 
order of the afternoon. 

The ancient and honorable Philalethian plays an important part in the 
social life of the girls at Vassar. Though there are numerous small organ- 
izations of varied kinds, the Philalethian is the only social club that takes 
in the great majority. As the membership is so large the society is, for the 
sake of convenience, divided into chapters, — each with its individual presi- 
dent, while a president in chief controls the whole. The new girls 
apply for admission, and the various chapters divide up the applicants among 
themselves. Each chapter orders and arranges its own entertainments, 
but they all meet and unite in the Hall plays, — the great events of the } r ear — 
when the choicest dramatic spirits of the College are actors, and the whole 
Philalethian is present to applaud. We, perhaps, owe our Barn Swallows, 
in part, at least, to the idea planted by these social clubs in the minds of 
Wellesley girls who altered the form to meet their own needs and demands, 
but kept the spirit of the Idler and the Philalethian. 

In an editorial last month on the College Library, a statement was made 
concerning the Horsford fund which should be corrected. During many 
years the Horsford fund has provided liberally for both current expenses and 
the purchase of new books, and it is to this source that we owe by far the 
greater number of the forty-eight thousand volumes which the library now 



I hereby raise a protest against the mysterious cloaking of personality 
reported to take place in the poetry department of this number of the Maga- 
zine. Those of us who. were able to find out enough to understand the 
allusions to a " Poetry Club" in our midst, in the November number of the 
Magazine, were exceedingly interested in it, — its aims, its methods, and its 
members, — particularly when we realized that some part of its product must find 
its way to these pages. We were eager to know what nature of rhyme could 
be produced by such a union, and, above all, " who wrote what." It seemed 
as if the College should have the right to locate its talent, to personify it, as 
it were, if for no other satisfaction than to predict futures, or claim knowl- 
edge of the past, should fame emphasize the veiled names of these modest 
aspirants. But we find we are to be balked by a couple of meaningless 
letters, identifying each production with the body as an abstract whole, — 
with this Rash Clique, these Royal Clowns, these Rabid Cynics, these Rat- 
tled Children. Must it be so? And if so, why so? 

It seems strange that it is the members of the freshman class alone who are 
debarred from the privilege of attending the theater, the reason being given 
that their time is needed for their studies. This would lead one to suppose 
that the freshmen have more to do than any of the upper-class girls. Yet 
when it comes to the question of lights, it is found that it is only the fresh- 
men again who are forbidden to sit up after ten o'clock ; the l'eason in this 
case being that they have plenty of time to prepare their lessons before ten. 
If they have time to get their lessons before ten o'clock, and others have not, 
kow is it that others have time to attend the theater and they have not? 



The prevailing tone of the exchange columns in last month's college 
Magazines was despondent. Dwellers in the most inviting glass houses flung 
stones freely, and had windows smashed in return. An outsider, judging by 


this interchange of amenities, might have traveled to either one of two false 
conclusions : he might have decided that college publications lack brotherly 
kindness, or that literary ability, so far as collegians are concerned, is rest- 
ing in peace, and ready for the requiem. To prevent any such impressions 
we are eager to take up cudgels in our own defense. In answer to the first 
possible charge we would say that we college periodicals bubble over with 
friendliness for each other. If we conceal our feelings under words likely 
to be misunderstood, we do so with the best of intentions. Like the reader of 
themes and forensics, we have in view the mutual benefit to both criticiser 
and criticised, more especially to 'the criticised. To any intimation of our 
lack of ability, we hasten to reply that we have it, we feel a deep, glowing 
assurance that we have it, however chary of appearing it may seem. Lit- 
erary ability, we must explain, is modest, — especially so in college. She 
does not rush in unasked, and heap up the editor's desk in wanton pro- 
fusion. On the contrary, she demands to be wooed, coaxed, wheedled, and 
even then she holds back. Witness the amazed admiration and hopeless 
envy with which one of our sisters speaks of another, "Nine articles, and 
not one by the editors ! " We also gasp. We have a fleeting, incredible 
idea that editors so supported may sometimes lean back in the editorial 
chair, capacious but not over-downy seat, and allow themselves the luxury 
of a smile. Possibly they have even lost that searching expression which 
is the unmistakable stamp on the college magazine editor. But here we 
feel that we overpass the lawful bounds of imagination, and take flights 
which may cause us discontent with the wind-clipping realities of our lot. 
To return, then, to the exchanges of this month. They fill us with the 
same comfortable feeling which creeps over us when the singer assures us 
that " Spring is not dead." They promise, and we hope. Vacation has 
apparently been put behind, and the advantage is evident and widespread. 
There is more good, vigorous prose, and less diluted moonshine disguised as 
fiction. The college youth and college maiden, to be sure, still flourish, and 
spread their love over unnecessary pages. Such things, we submit, are in- 
evitable. They are the stuff" that plots are, or are not, made of. On the 
whole, however, the stories are much above those of last month. The 
poetry, perhaps, is not so good. But then, we cannot always have two 
lumps of sugar in our tea. 


In the Vassar Miscellany we notice especially an interesting, well-written 
article on " Maurus Jokai, Novelist and Patriot." There is also a clever little 
story, "A Girl'to Love," in which the girl was not a girl at all, but only the 
photograph of a hasty-pudding heroine. 

Readers of the Smith Monthly will find in "English Fiction of the 
Present Day," and "Stevenson, the Man," two essays well worth attention. 
"The Story of the Child Ursula" has in it a knowledge of child nature and 
an art of expression not often found together. It is full of an unexpressed 
tragedy, none the less tragical in that it is a child's. 

If we may presume to warn, we would say that two stories in the Yale 
Lit., "Mr. Hook and Mrs. Crook," and "Uncanny Youth," are full of the 
unexpressed, so well concealed that some may find looking for it a hopeless 

The quality of the fiction in the Columbia Lit. is commendable. "The 
King's Triumph" has a decidedly Weymanesque flavor, but on the whole is 
exciting, and well and rapidly told. "Where Hope is Hopeless" is little 
more than a sketch, — an incident in a Chinese opium joint. It is done with 
strong strokes, is vivid, realistic, and unpleasant. 

The Nassau Lit. is worthy of note chiefly for the essay on ' ' The Ring 
and the Book," and the blue haze which circles about "Some Literary 
Smokers." The writer of the latter comes very near to reaching the con- 
clusion that the world's great owe their making, so to speak, to tobacco. 

The Inlander has a little story upon which we should like to bestow some 
well-merited praise. Unfortunately it is in dialect, and no one now dares to 
praise dialect stories. Some of its attractions are hinted in its title, "An' 
He Wind She Bio wed all Night dat Day." 

We clip : — 


This life is sweet though we have lost the rose ; 
And what care we that iuto darkness goes 
The little span that's left to you and me? 
Not all the beauty vanished with the spring, 
For new joys rise while other charms take wing. 
The day was bright? Lo, stars light up the sea. 

— Nassau Lit. 



I see brown leaves a-blowing, 

Sing all ! sing all ! this merry lay. 
I see black cloud-streams flowing, 

And these, alack, must end the play ; 
For one shall sleep at dawn of day, 

And one shall sleep at eve, 
But I shall sleep at the burning noon, 

We three — sweet sleep receive ! 

It's sleep that knows no waking, 
One long, gloom nap we're taking, 
And a poor fool's heart is breaking : 
Sweet sleep receive ! 

— Yale Lit. 


I sent my lady violets blue, 

And then, with lover's art, 
I begged her, if she loved me true, 

To wear them o'er her heart. 

And if she would not say me yea, 

But bade me not despair, 
I prayed her send hope's cheering ray, 

And wear them in her hair. 

I met my lady yester e'en, 

The wind blew chill and rough. 

She wore my flowers, — but, cruel queen ! 
She pinned them on her muff. 

— Smith Monthly. 


Over the sunset sea 

Rises the evening star ; 

Silver the path from me 
Leading to it afar. 


Barren the sandy shore, 
Dreary the evening sky, 

Savage the ceaseless roar 
Of the billows nigh. 

Say, what is that afloat 

Off in the path to the star? 

It is an empty boat 
Drifting over the bar. 

Slowly on to the shore 
Drifts the boat from the sea ; 

In it a broken oar, — 

Where can the oarsman be ? 

Battered by billow and bar, 
Safe on the shore at last ; 

Whisper, O evening star, 
Tell me what of its past. 

— Bowdoin Quill. 


The American College in American Life, by Charles Franklin Thwing, 
D.D., LL.D., President of Western Reserve University and of Adelbert 
College. New York: G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1897. 

The month of November has brought to those interested in the college 
problem a book entitled "The American College in American Life," by C. 
F. Thwing. Mr. Thwing is himself a college man, as well as the Presi- 
dent of Western Reserve University and of Adelbert College, and for sev- 
eral years has shown his lively sense of the importance of college questions 
by the publication of the following books dealing with those questions, 
" American Colleges : Their Students and Work," " Within College Walls," 
and "The College Woman." 

The work under consideration, "The American College in American 
Life," sums up briefly, as an introduction, the growth and increasing power 
of the college. It then goes on to give "Certain Great Results" of the 
collegiate movement. Mr. Thwing writes: "It (the American College) 


has helped to train one third of all our statesmen ; more than one third of 
our best authors ; almost a half of our more distinguished physicians ; fully 
one half of our better-known lawyers ; more than a half of our best clergy- 
men ; and considerably more than one half of our most conspicuous edu- 

The author next discusses "College Influence, Over and Through 
Individuals," "Certain Present Conditions," and "Certain Difficulties " of 
those academic conditions. He thinks "it to be the duty of Americans to 
use every endeavor to prevent the foundation of more colleges ; to unite, 
if it be possible, certain ones of those now existing ; to strengthen the col- 
leges already great, well endowed, well established, and well situated— to 
make those not only great but the greatest possible. We should unite all 
the fires of our scholarship in a few central suns, rather than scatter them as 
star dust through the scholastic heavens." 

Mr. Tkwing is, from the outset, an enthusiast in behalf of colleges, but 
by no means a blind enthusiast. He sets forth the advantages, the power, 
the success of college clearly and vigorously, — but as tellingly and concisely 
he lays bare its failures and its dangers. The book is calculated to give one 
a short yet comprehensive view of the history, influence, and probable future 
of a force which has already so strongly affected over two centuries and a 
half of our national life, and which is to continue a most powerful factor of 
its development in the coming years. 

With Pipe and Booh; a collection of college verse, chosen by Joseph 
Le Roy Harrison, Editor of Cap and Gown. Providence : Preston and 
Rounds Co., 1897. 

In an odd binding of green and red of a cap and gowned person com- 
ing, with pipe in mouth and book in hand, down a winding path from towers 
in the distance. " With Pipe and Book " belies not its name, — as to " the 
outer man," in any event. The heart of the matter, we fear, does not restrict 
itself to the masculine, however, for within the covers appears many a poetic 
gem from feminine caskets. The little book is a successor to the " Cap 
and Gown " volumes, and is of about the same caliber. The selections have 
been chosen from the literary publications, monthly or weekly, of the more 
prominent colleges. There is no effort made at classification, but gay suc- 
ceeds grave, and serious gives place to playful at pleasure. The little book 


is a pleasant companion to have, both as it reflects in a measure present 
poetic doings of our colleges, and as it serves to entertain with its fun and 
please with its frequent real poetic merit. 


With Pipe and Booh; a collection of college verse, chosen by Joseph 
Le Roy Harrison, editor of Gap and Gown. Providence : Preston and 
Rounds Co., 1897. 

Selections from Paradise Lost, including Books I. and II. entire, and 
portions of Books III., IV., VI., VII., and X. With Introduction, Sug- 
gestions for Study, and Glossary. Edited by Albert Perry Walker, M.A. 
Boston : D. C. Heath & Co.., 1897. Price, 40 cents. 

Poems by William Wordsworth ; a selection edited by Edward Dowden. 
The Athenaeum Press Series. Boston : Ginn & Co., 1897. 

German Selections for Sight Translation; compiled by Georgianna F. 
Mondan. Heath's Modern Language Series. Boston: D. C. Heath & Co., 
1897. Price, 15 cents. 

Morii der Geissbub, by Johanna Spyrix. With a Vocabulary, by H. 
A. Guerber. Heath's Modern Language Series. D. C. Heath & Co., 
1897. Price, 25 cents. 

The American College in American Life, by Charles Franklin Thwing, 
D.D., LL.D. New York: G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1897. 

Tennyson's The Princess. Edited with Introduction and Notes by 
Albert S. Cook, Ph.D., L.H.D., Professor of the English Language and 
Literature in Yale University, President of the Modern Language Associa- 
tion of America. Boston: Ginn & Co., 1897. 


Nov. 4. — The usual Thursday evening prayer meeting is led by Mrs. 

Nov. 5. — The Biology Club, which has been carried on for the last two 
years by the students in the higher courses of Zoology, under the direction 


of the Misses Claypole and Miss Hubbard, met Nov. 5 to discuss plans for 
the coming year. The programme decided upon is the study of the natural 
history of Wellesley, discussions of interesting scientific questions, and 
reports on prominent articles in the scientific magazines. The discussion 
for the next two meetings are upon the history of anatomy and leading 
anatomists, and the geographical distribution of animals. After the dis- 
cussion there is an informal social meeting. 

Nov. 6. — Dr. Ernest Henderson, of the History department, gives a 
talk, in the Current Topics Course, on William II. 

Nov. 7. — Rev. R. D. Merrill, of Brentwood, L. I., preaches in the 
chapel at the usual hour ; at 7 p. m. Mrs. Gulick gives an interesting 
account of her work in San Sebastian, Spain. 

Nov. 8. — An informal recital is given in Stone Hall parlor, consisting 
of numbers by Miss Warren, violin, and Miss Carroll, piano, both of Boston, 
assisted by advanced pupils from the School of Music. The members of the 
music faculty intend to give these informals about once a month ; and, so 
greatly was the first enjoyed by those present, it is hoped they may be able 
to follow out their plan. 

Nov. 11. — Prof. Von Dael, of the Boston University, lectures before 
the French department. His subject was "Salons in the Eighteenth 

Nov. 13. — The regular meeting of the Barn Swallows was held in the 
barn at 1.30 p. m. A play, "A Box of Monkeys," was given, and was 
heartily enjoyed by those present. The following members, who constituted 
the cast of characters, deserve great credit for their excellent acting : — 

Sierra ........ Grace Hoge, '98. 

Mrs. Ondego Jones 
Lady Guinivere Landpoor 
Chaucey Oglethorpe 
Edward Ralston e . 

Elizabeth Jones, '98. 

Alice Harding, 1900. 

. Helen Damon, '98. 

Corinne Abercrombie, 1900. 

Nov. 14. — Rev. B. D. Hahn, of Springfield, Mass., conducts the 
usual Sunday service in the chapel. 

Nov. 15. — The first of the evening concerts for this year is given by 
Miss Harriet Shaw, harp, and Miss Clarke, voice. 


Nov. 18. — 3.30 p. M., The '98 basket-ball team wins the inter-class 
game from '99, with a score of 17 to 5. Attention is hereby modestly called 
to the fact that the '98 team has never yet lost a game. 

Nov. 20.— 3.20. Dr. Alice Luce, '83, of the English department, 
speaks in the Current Topics course on " Opportunities for Study Abroad. n 
Dr. Luce is one of Wellesley's daughters, of whom she may well feel proud. 
She was the first woman to receive the decree of Ph.D. from Heidelberg 
University. Her talk was extremely interesting, and was highly appreciated 
by her large audience. 

Nov. 21. — Eev. E. S. Rousmaniere, of New Bedford, Mass., conducts 
the usual morning services in the chapel. 

Nov. 22. — 11 a. m. The services connected with the laying of the 
corner stone of the new chapel, to the west of Stone Hall, take place in the 
present college chapel. Rev. Dr. Alvah Hovey, Vice President of the Board 
of Trustees, made the opening prayer, which was followed by an address by 
Rev. Dr. Edward L. Clark. Mr. Clement Houghton laid the corner stone 
of the new chapel, given by Mr. and Miss Houghton in memory of their 
father, William S. Houghton, a former friend and Trustee of the College. In 
the corner stone were placed a Bible, a copy of the college charter and by- 
laws, a copy of Mr. Durant's sermon, and representative copies of the daily 
papers. The closing prayer was offered by Bishop Wm. Lawrence, of the 
Board of Trustees. A large number of guests were present at the exercises, 
including trustees, alumnse, and other friends of the College. The corner 
selected for the ceremony is the northeast corner bordering on the main 
avenue through the grounds. Owing to the lateness of the season the ser- 
vices out of doors were necessarily brief. 

7.30 p. M. Prof. George Hubert Palmer lectures on " The State as an 
Ethical Factor." After the lecture the members of the Philosophy depart- 
ment, assisted by Professor and Mrs. Palmer, received some of the students 
of the department and other guests in the faculty parlor. 

Nov. 24. — 12.30 p. M. College closes for the Thanksgiving recess. 
The corridors are generally deserted. 

Nov. 26. — 12.30 p. M. The barges unload the revelers at the door, 
and the recitation bells begin to ring once more. 

Nov. 27. — 3.20 p. M. Miss Coman gives the regular Current Topics 


talk in Lecture Room 1. Her subject was "The Coal Strike of the Past 

7.30 p. m. Mr. Max Heinrich gives a song recital in the chapel before 
a very large and equally enthusiastic audience. 

Nov. 28. — Rev. J. E. Tuttle, of Worcester, Mass., preaches in the 
chapel at the usual hour. 

Nov. 29. — 7.30 p. m. Mr. John Graham Brooks lectures on the Lat- 
timer riot and the price of coal. 

General. — It was thought that it might be of interest to the alumnae 
enthusiastic in sports and pastimes in their college days, as well as to present 
members of the student body, to learn the present status of the athletic in- 
terests in the College. The Athletic Association itself numbers two hundred 
and fifty-four, some of its members belonging to the faculty. Golf is espe- 
cially well patronized this year in spite of links far from perfect. Basket 
ball is, as usual, highly popular and successful under Miss Barker, '98. It 
was hoped that intercollegiate games might have been arranged had not 
winter descended rather early and unexpectedly. As usual, crews and 
basket-ball teams leave outdoor work December 1, for the gymnasium. 
Facilities for indoor work are especially good this year, owing to the fact 
that the "barn," is now supplied with heating apparatus, and hence can be 
utilized for gymnastic purposes uninterruptedly. For those not regular 
members of organized sports the regular dumb-bell classes will be formed, 
and, it is hoped by the association, continuous opportunities for skating may 
be had by flooding the athletic field. The enthusiasm for basket ball, as 
well as golf, has reached the body of" officers of instruction and govern- 
ment," and a faculty basket-ball team is being organized, and will commence 
work next week. Several of the faculty are also going to undertake regular 
gymnasium work. 

The most interesting basket-ball match of the season took place in the 
gymnasium, Tuesday evening, November 30, by chosen players from the 
faculty. The college has not been notified as yet whether, as an organized 
team, they will play the class and college teams,, or whether they were 
merely occupying their leisure moments by this invigorating pastime. 



At a meeting of Phi Sigma Society held Saturday, October 16th, the 
following programme was given : — 

Subject, Robert Louis Stevenson's "Kidnapped." 

Critique ...... Martha S. Dalzell. 

Music .... Alma Liepp and Lucy Plympton. 

" The Weir of Hermiston." Critique . . Jane X. Cool. 

Stevenson as a Writer of Romantic Fiction . Ellen Smith. 

Stevenson's Songs ...... Betty Scott. 

There were present at the meeting, Miss Abbott and Miss Wells from 
the Beta chapter; Miss Eager, '92; Ethel Stanwood Bolton, '94; Miss 
Chase, '95 ; Misses Shaw, Goldthwaite, Dewson, and Baxter, '97 ; Miss 
Eddy, special, and Miss Montague. 

A regular meeting of the Agora was held Tuesday, November 23, at 
which the following programme was presented : — 

Impromptu Speeches, 

The Significance of the November Elections Mary S. Barbour. 

Laurier's Visit to Washington . . . Ruth S. Coodwin. 

Spain's Reply to General Woodford . . Elizabeth Seilman. 

The question, " Should the municipal government control the street 
railways," was considered. 

Introductory Papers .... Lucy M. Wright. 

Affirmative ...... Miriam Hathaway. 

Negative . . . . . . Mary Louise Clarke. 

A general debate followed : Miss Mary Lauderbach, '99, Miss Edna 
Le S. Seward, Miss Rachel C. Reeve, and Miss Anna F. Cross, all of 1900, 
were initiated. 

The regular monthly programme meeting of the Society Alpha Kappa 
Chi was held Satui'day evening, November 6. The following programme 
was rendered : — 



News from Classic Lands . . . . . H. Carter. 





1. Mythology in Homer . . . . . . M. Smith. 

2. Mythology in Vergil E. Watt. 

3. Mythology in Art J. Hall. 

There was an initiation meeting of the Society Alpha Kappa Chi, 
Friday evening, November 12. Miss Estelle Smith, of 1900, was initiated. 

A regular meeting of the Society Tau Zeta Epsilon was held Saturday, 
November 6. Miss Carolyn Louise Chase, 1900, was received into the 
Society. The programme for the evening from the study of the history of 
music was as follows : — 

Music and Musicians in Italy. 

I. Current Topics . . . . Florence Brentano. 

II. History of Music in Italy . . M. Emelie McClary. 

III. Style of Music and Chief Compositions . Mary G. Martin. 

IV. Music from " II Trovatore," Misses Sutherland, Reynolds, 

V. Great Italian Composers . . . Olive Rosencranz. 

A regular meeting of the Shakespeare Society was held in Shakespeare 
Hall, November 29, at 7.30 p. m. The study of the Merchant of Venice, 
begun in the last meeting, was continued. The following programme was 
presented : — 

I. Shakespeare News ..... Alice Cromack. 
II. The Jew in Elizabethan Drama. 

Shakespeare's Shylock, Marlowe's Barabbas, Maude Almy. 

III. Dramatic Representation. Merchant of 

Venice, Act I., Scene 3. Marlowe's Jew 
of Malta, Act I., Scene 2. 

IV. Shylock on the Stage .... Edna Patterson. 
V. Dramatic Representation. Act V., Scene 1. 

A meeting of Society Zeta Alpha was held on Friday evening, Novem- 
ber 12. Miss Josephine Baxter, '98, Miss Mary Coonley, '99, and Miss 


Ethel Burnham, 1900, were initiated into the Society. The following pro- 
gramme was presented : — 

Review of Hall Caine's " Christian" . . . Miss Burton. 

A Study of Recent Poetry .... Miss Maine. 


The Kentuckians, by John Fox, Jr. 
A Rose of Yesterday, by Crawford. 
Prisoners of Conscience, by Amelia Barr. 

Chevalier d'Auriac, by S. Levitt Yeats . . Miss Arnold. 
Farce, " Bachelor Maids." 

Miss Craig, Miss Bayliss, Miss Sage, 

Miss Childs, Miss Byington, Miss Wilcox. 

A meeting of Zeta Alpha was held on Saturday evening, November 
27. The programme of the evening was as follows : — 

Review of the " Weir of Hermiston " . . Miss Wheeler. 

Review of Mitchell's " Hugh Wynne" . . Miss Wilcox. 
Current Topic. 

The New York Elections ..... Miss Byington. 


Adelaide Denis, '87, is this year at the head of the Mathematical de- 
partment of the Colorado Springs High School. 

Anna Palen, '88, is spending the winter in Germany. Her address is 
14 Liitzon Strasse, Berlin, W. Germany. 

The wedding of Miss Mary Stinson, '89, was the pleasant occasion of a 
small gathering of Wellesley girls. Miss Gertrude Henderson, formerly of 
'88, and Miss Cordon Stimson, '92, were two of the bridesmaids. Miss M. 
Calista McCauley, '88, Mrs. Mary Edwards Twitchell, '89, Miss Sarah H. 
Groff, '90, and Miss Harriet L. Constantine, '89, were present at the wed- 

The engagement of Ethel A. Glover, '90, is announced. 


Henrietta W. Barbe Brooks, '91, remains this year in her position at 
the Carnegie Library, Pittsburg, Penn. 

Katherine F. Gleason, '91, is teaching in the Chino California High 

Lillian Corbet Barnes is spending the winter teaching in Hawaii. 

Edith Grier Long, '92, is carrying on her work as Pastor's Helper in 
the South Congregational Church of Bridgeport, Conn. Miss Long has 
held this position since July, 1895. 

Alice W. Kellogg, '94, is teaching English in the Huguenot College, 
Wellington, Cape Colony, South Africa. 

Fannie B. Greene, '94, is at home in Arlington, Mass., this winter. 

Florence W. Barnfield, '95, is teaching in the Pawtucket, R. I., High 

L. May Pitkin, '95, continues her work at Hull House in Chicago this 

Sarah C. Weed, '95, expects to spend the Christmas vacation with Eliz- 
abeth B. Hardee, in Savannah. 

Alice W. Hunt, '95, remains this year at Mrs. Mead's school in Nor- 
walk, Conn. 

Emily Porter, '96, is teaching in Burlington, Vt. 

Ada W. Sweet, '96, is teaching in the Mansfield, Mass., High School. 

Blanche Currier, '97, is at home in Haverhill, Mass. 

Elizabeth A. Randall, '97, is spending the winter with her sister in 
Mahukona, Hawaii, H. I. 

Harriet Viola Evans, '97, is a member of the Brookline Training Class. 

The November meeting of the New York Wellesley Club was held on 
November 6. The club was then the guests of the Association of Collegiate 
Alumnse in Carnegie Hall. 

The "Wellesley Association of Western New York" has ceased to be, 
^ind in its place has sprung up the "Wellesley Club of Rochester." The 


club held its annual meeting and luncheon on the 30th of October. On 
November 19 the first of the small social meetings was held at the house of 
Mrs. Clara Andrews Hale, '86, and Miss Kate R. Andrews, '87. The 
activities of the club during the past year have been varied. They con- 
tributed to the Students' Aid Society $35, and in December gave a reception 
to other college women of Rochester. This year the members have entered 
upon the work with renewed zeal, and they are doing all in their power to- 
interest Rochester people in the "College Beautiful." 

The Boston Wellesley College Club held its first meeting for the year 
at Wellesley, November 6. Dean Stratton received the Club in the Hors- 
ford parlor, and members of the senior class entertained with short speeches,, 
giving interesting accounts of the present standing of the various student 
organizations. Miss Damon spoke as president of the Glee Club, Miss 
Dalzell as officer of the Athletic Association, and Miss Rousmaniere as 
representative of the Barn Swallows. Another pleasant featui'e of the meet- 
ing was joining once more with the kindly assistance of the Glee Club, in 
singing Wellesley songs from "Tupelo," favorite of old, to the present 
popular " 'Neath the Oaks." After the songs light refreshments were served, 
and the meeting was given over to an informal social. 

Last spring there was organized in Rochester a "College Woman's 
Club," of which Miss Davis, a former Wellesley student, is president. The 
plan of the club includes both social and literary features. 

The regular fall meeting of the Philadelphia Wellesley Club was held 
at the home of the president, Miss Rachel Sweatman, on Saturday, Novem- 
ber 27. A social meeting followed the business meeting. 


Gardner-Keefe. — In Chester, Mass., Nov. 25, 1897, Miss Clara M. 
Keefe, '88, to Mr. Elam Le Roy Gardner, of Troy, N. Y. 

Bean-Stinson. — In Norristown, Pa., Oct. 20, 1897, Miss Mary Emily 
Stinson, '89, to Lieut. William H. Bean, Second Cavalry, U. S. A. Mrs. 
Bean's address is Fort Wingate, New Mexico. 


Cushman-Little. — In Pawtucket, R. I., Sept. 21, 1897, Miss Eliza- 
beth Little, '92, to Mr. Robert Cushman, of Central Falls, R. I. 

Hill-Tuxbury.— In North Tonawanda, N. Y., Oct. 6, 1897, Miss 
Edith E. Tuxbury, '94, to Mr. Charles Hill. 

Dudley-Nourse. — In Marlboro, Mass., Sept. 23, 1897, Miss Harriet 
A. Nourse, '95, to Mr. Chai-les E. Dudley, of Providence, R. I. 

Mills-Sill. — In Windsor, Conn., Sept. 1, 1897, Miss Mary Elizabeth 
Sill, Sp., '79-83, to Mr. Frank V. Mills. 

Carmichael-Leonard. — At Tufts College, Massachusetts, Nov. 23, 
1897, Miss Emily H. Leonard, Sp., '85-86, to Dr. Thomas H. Carmichael. 
At home, 7127 Germantown Avenue, Philadelphia. 


Jan. 16, 1897, at 39 Fisher's Lane, Germantown, Pa., a son, Edward 
Howe, to Mrs. Harriet Pierce Sanborn, '80. 


In Austin, 111., Nov. 12, 1897, Mr. William C. Lewis, husband of Ger- 
trude Stevens Lewis, formerly '85. 

In New York City, Nov. 14, 1897, Miss Anna Deknatel, formerly an 
instructor in the French department. 

In Dover, N. H., Nov. 21, 1897, Mrs. Shackford, mother of Martha 
H. Shackford, '96. 





Lenox Waists 

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till 1 BOSTON, MASS. 

yrescnptions OPPOSITE OLD SOUTH 
323 and 325 Washington Street. 

454 Boylston Street, corner Berkeley Street. 


PHotograpi Supplies, Cameras, 

Etc., of Every Description. 

i2S-page Catalogue on application. 

Our Stock 

Is constantly in to ,ir ^ wirh 

Intercollegiate Bureau and Registry. 


Complimentary < 




If it's new w 
A. Stc 

>s, Relia 
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jifts, all pria 
: Presents, $1 
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e have it ! 



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1 cents to $3. 


Cotrell & Leonard, 

472 to 478 Broad-way, 
Albany, 1W. Y. 


Caps and Gowns 


>well & 

American Colleges. 

24 Winter Street - Boston, Mass. 

Illustrated Catalogue and Particulars on Application. 





Fancy Biscuits. 



Pickles, etc. 

Every Requisite 
Dainty Lunch 

for a 


Cobb, Bates & Yerxa Co's, 

680 Washington Street, 

Miss M. F. Fisk, 

P»»o. 44 Temple Place, Boston. 

Wishes to announce to the Young Ladies that she has received 
her Fall and Winter Stock of 

Velveteen and 

French Flannel Waists. 

They are in Plain, Striped, and Plaid Effects, and are in beautiful shades of Red, Green, 
Purple, Brown, and Black. The style is very attractive, and the fit perfect, as they have 
been made on Miss Fisk's special chart. Miss Fisk would be greatly pleased to have you 
examine them, sending you all a cordial invitation to do so. 

Something New in Stationery, 

Prescriptions Accurately Compounded. 

WELLESLEY FLAG. Call and see it. 

A1SO Conf e d cUon B s! ker ' S ™ d ""^ StORY & CuTTER, Shattuck Building, Wellesley. 




Urse Variety of FANCY BOXES & BASKETS. 
suilable for PRESENTS. 



Candies sent everywhere btmailor express. 

When in Need of. . . 

Pure Drugs, Chemicals, 
Standard Patent Medicines, 
Toilet Articles, 
Perfumery, etc., etc., 

Call at- 

0. A. Gould's Pharmacy, 

Partridge's Building, YVellesley . 

Our Hot Chocolate with Cream is Delicious. 


Wellesley Preparatory, 


For circular address the Principals, 



To cut down your school expenses. Look ! ! J 

Students' Paper, 25 cts. per lb. 
Students' Covers, 20 and 25 cts. each. 
Students' ("T.&M.Co.") Pencils, 35 cts. doz. 
Students' "Sterling" Steel Pens, 60 cts. gross. 
Engraved Plate and 100 Calling Cards, $1.50. 

Engraved Die, ioo Sheets Paper and ) (H-A * i-t 

ioo Envelopes, Finest Quality J W\' I /• 

All Students' Supplies equally low. Always use our A»A 
Waterman's " Standard " Fountain Pen. 


Stationers Engravers Printers, 

12 Milk Street, Boston. 

R DIEHL. JR., & CO., 

Livery and Boarding 


Baggage Transferred to and from Station 

Orders Promptly Attended To. 

Telephone No. 16-2. 

Wriglit & HMtson, 

The Leading Athletic Outfitters of New England. 


Golf, Basket Ball, Fencing-, and 
the Gymnasium. 

Special Attention given to Orders by Mail. 

Wright & Ditson, 

344 Washington Street, Boston, Mass. 
WE make a specialty of 

Winter Weight 

Walking Boots. .. 

Box Calf, Willow Calf. 

Rubber-sole Gymnasium Shoes 

A Full Line of Rubbers. 


?*o. 3 Clark's Block, 
Natick, Mass. 


The Dana Hall School, 


Pupils are prepared for regular or for special 
courses at Wellesley College. 

Price for Board and Tuition, $500 for the 
school year; Tuition for day pupils, $125. 

For further information address the Principals : 

Julia A. Eastman. 

Sarah P. Eastman. 



and all the 

Popular Shapes for Young Ladies 

A large assortment on Men's 
Shaped Lasts. 

Gymnasium and ail styles of Athletie 
Shoes a specialty. 

Prices Reasonable. 
Discount to the Faculty and Students of Wellesley. 

T. E. Moseley & Co., 

469 Washington Street, Boston. 

T|e Wellesley steam Laundry 

will call at the 

Main Building, Norumbega, Freeman 
and Wood Cottages ; collect Tuesday 
noon, deliver Saturday afternoon. Will also 
call at the Eliot; collect Monday morning, 
deliver Thursday afternoon. 

All work guaranteed to be well done. No bleach 
or acid used. Clothes dried out of doors, weather 
permitting. None but the best of supplies used and 
the best kind of work done with practically no wear. 
A fair trial generally makes a patron. 

J. T. MELLUS, Proprietor 

Kent Place School 
for Girls, 

Summit, New Jersey. 

Hamilton W. Mabie, 

Application may be made to the 

Mrs. Sarah Woodman Paul. 

Junius W. Hill, 

(Leipsic, 1S60-1S63.) 

For the past thirteen years Professor of 
Music in Wellesley College, and Director 
of the Wellesley College School of Music, 



At his Studio in Boston, 

154 Tremont Street. 

Specialties. — The Art of Piano-playing, Organ, 
Harmony, and Voice Culture. Correspondence so- 
licited. Circulars sent on application to any address. 



Have I us: Issued 

A New Book of Harvard Life 

Bv Ma::hs Flavu?.au 
Octavo, 340 p2ges 3 crimson cloth, 51.25 

Flandrau has drawn the modern " ' Harvard 
man as he //, not as he used to be, or as 
he ought to be, but trathfully as he is. We 
feel sure that so accurate a picture of mod- 
e™ zz'.tzt life has r.:: :t::re reer urav.--, 
and :f_a: all college ~ er. ""HI ;::■;:;": :uis, 
and heartily welcome the book. 

/«r J77& 3y all Booksellers or sent by the 
Publishers m receipt :' trice. 

09 corxhill. bostox 

Best Work. Lewes: Prices. 

Frank Wood. 

352 Washington Street, Boston. 

Telephone, Boston 173. 


Full Count. Prompt Delivery. 

Insignia. Badges. Society Stationery 

:-;,.;■ 3 = 

: : ~ - . 7 : v ^ -_ 

Ttie Baiieg. BanKs s Blame Compang, 

Jewelers, Silversmiths, Stationers. 




Via Fall River and Newport. 

-l-e Fa— c-5 Steamboats -.• this Lice, tie 


superior iafcransp::. -..-.-. aosBbtatGc 

The Boole traversed" by the Fall River Liae is nnsar- 
passed m attractive ■arae fcatatea aaa" jim— mfi afs- 

SreciaL Vestibuled Ex — ess Trail: leaves Boston 
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\. C. KEXDAUL 0. H. TaYLOB. 

G.P.A.. W. N. H.&H. R. R. O.C.Svsjan . Q. P. A., Fall Bra Liae, 

Bostoa. Re* Y»rlt. 

L. H. PALMER. Boston Pass'r Ag-t.. 
N: 3 O.d Stats; House H : = t:z 

Perfect Comfort 

For women and positive style. That's what we studied 
for. That's what we have. Not a toe crowded. Noth- 
ing' to pinch or hurt. 

TheH. H. "TuttleShoe" 

is made on men's lasts. Has that graceful outside 
swing that gives the little toe breathing room. Double- 
soled calf for those who want heavy shoes. Lighter 
grades for others. $4 to $8 is the price. Discount to 
Students and Faculty. 

H. H. TUTTLE & CO., 

Washington St., cor. Winter Street. 



New York Infirmary for Women and Children. 

THE Thirty-second Annual Session opens October 
1,1897. Four years, Graded Course. Instruc- 
tion by Lectures, Clinics, Recitations and practical 
work, under supervision in Laboratories, and Dis- 
pensary of College, and in New York Infirmary. 
Clinics and operations in most of the City Hospitals 
and Dispensaries open to Women Students. For 
Catalogues, etc., address 

321 East 15TH St., New York. 

H. H. CARTER & CO., 

Stationers & Engravers 


20 per cent Discount 


Made by Wellesley College Students. 

5 Somerset St. (near Beacon), 


19 Bromfield Street - Boston, Mass. 

Artists' Materials. 



Christmas, Easter, Valentine 
and Birthday Gifts, etc. .... 

Usual Discount to Students. 

Joel Goldthwait & Company, 

Have just opened and are now ready to show 
a large and verv fine line of 

Scotch • Axminsters, • English • Wiltons • and • Brussels, 

With a full stock of 

Domestic Wiltons, Brussels, Axminsters, 
Velvets, Tapestries and Ingrains. 

The Styles and Colorings adapted to the present styles of Furnishings. 

Near corntalll. 

163 to 169 Washington Street, Boston, Mass. 

Women's and Misses' 

Blanket Wraps 

For the Nursery. 
For the Sick Room. 
For the Bath. 

For Steamer Traveling. 
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For Yachting. 

For Men, Women, Children, and the 
Baby, $2.75 to $35, with Hood and 
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Flannel Wraps 
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Bath Wraps . 
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Golf Waists . 
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Union Undergarments 
Golf Capes 
Mackintoshes to order 
Cravenettes to order 
Walking - Gloves 
Driving Gloves . . 
Golf Gloves . . . 
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Satin or Silk Stocks . $2.00 
Hunting Stocks . . . 1.25 
Riding Cravats . . . 1.25 

String Ties 50 to 

Stick Pins 35 " 

Sleeve Links 50 " 

Sleeve Buttons . . . .50 " 
Collar Buttons ... .10 " 


Abdominal Bands . . 
Woolen Knee Caps 
Fleecy I,ined Bed Hose 
Couch Covers 
Traveling Rugs . 
Plush Rugs . 
Sleeping Robes 
Colored Dolls 

1.50 " 
6.00 " 
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3-50 " 




Humber Bicycles, $100.00 to $106.00. 

Noyes Bros., 

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M. R. Warren Co. 

Engravers and 
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e. i mm k el, 

Ladies' and Children's 



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Pocketbooks, Card Cases, Playing Cards, 

Fountain Pens, Stylographic Pens, 


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Everything in Writing Materials. 


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Our Display of 

Coats, Suits, Wraps, Furs, Waists, 
Rainproof Garments, Tea Gowns, 
and Silk Petticoats is the handsom- 
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Correct Styles. Moderate Prices. 

Nos. 531 me 533 Washington Street, 


Telephone 2254. 

Frank Wood, Printer, Boston